Silence met the sound of Nettle's rapping knuckles.

'Peter?' whispered a small voice, much more like a girl than a woman. Nettle looked across at Peter. His eyes were solemn and grave.

'Peter is that you?'

Nettle opened her mouth to speak, before she heard the sound of soft footsteps, and a shadow emerged before the window. Suddenly overcome with no idea what she was going to say, Nettle flew back from the window, and waited for it to swing open.

When it did, she found herself looking at a very beautiful young woman.

Glossy, honey brown hair that hung in waves surrounded a round and pretty face, with eyes as blue and adventurous as Peter's. Her mouth was pink and a smile creased the corners. She was wearing a pressed linen nightdress, sleeveless with frills spilling down it's front. As the cloth left her breasts it became free and long, so long it covered her feet, leaving small pink toes poking out.

Nettle was not surprised to see a thick novel under Wendy's arm.

But Wendy was most certainly surprised to see her. Her eyes widened as she took in this new child, and, though her breath caught in her throat she managed to croak,

'Who are you?'

Nettle smiled, wrinkling her nose at how sweet at clear the voice was.

'My name is Nettle.' She said quietly. She looked around.

Where was Peter? She looked around, and spotted him crouching on Wendy's cupboard. How had he got up there?

How could Wendy not have seen him?

'Are you from Neverland?' Wendy whispered, her heart in her throat.

Nettle shook her head, silky curls settling over one of her eyes, and she saw disappointment flicker in Wendy's eyes.

'He has not come then.' She said to herself, and seemed unconscious of the tears that brimmed in her eyes and began to spill down pink cheeks.

'Not from Neverland,' Nettle said hastily, 'But that is where I flew from.'

Wendy looked at her, eyes alight and shining. 'You've seen Peter?' she whispered.

'Yes.' Nettle said, frowning as she watched Peter on the cupboard. He was staring at Wendy, shaking with grief. Tears pittered down his face, rolling off his nose and down his chin. He sniffed loudly, but the curious thing was… Wendy did not notice.

'What of him?' Wendy asked tentatively. 'Is he well?'

'Why don't you ask him yourself?' Nettle said. 'He's in your room.'

Wendy whirled around, her brown hair flying off her shoulders. 'Where?' she breathed.

Nettle's frown deepened. 'Atop your cupboard… can you…. Can you not see him?'

Wendy turned, fresh tears in her eyes. This time there was despair in her voice. 'No.'

Nettle felt the grief from the pair of them so strong that it made her too feel depressed and dull.

'But… I don't understand!' she cried, 'I see him, he sees you. How is it you don't see him? Peter, say something!'

Peter shook him head, smiling sadly. 'She has not seen me for years, Nettle.'

'But…' Nettle looked back at Wendy, who sank into a chair, eyes closed, and for a moment, Nettle was frightened by the old look on that gorgeous young face.

Nervously, she came to sit on the windowsill, and, gingerly, she reached out and touched Wendy's arm.

'He says you have not seen him for years.'

Wendy let out a sob. 'No.' her breath became soft and queer. 'Oh, Peter. Have I become so old that we are never to see each other again? Am I doomed to become the housewife this life condemns me to?'

Nettle felt a pang of sorrow. And then, quite suddenly, a surge of determination seized her and she stood, her eyes on fire.

'This is stupid.' She declared. 'I don't know why I'm here, Wendy Darling. I don't know why Tinkerbelle picked me out of every other child in London. But I must be here for a reason. I don't know what love is, but damn it, I know where to sew the stitches when it needs to be repaired!'

Wendy looked at her, her eyes alight, and suddenly, a burst of laughter escaped her. A clear, sweet sound that permeated the air with warm, kind tones.

'How like Peter you are!' she smiled, blue eyes bright and sparkling.